


Adjustment

by Raionmimi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Possibly lewd interlocking hand holding, Slow Burn, Symmetra joins Overwatch, There will definitely be fluff possibly smut in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2018-09-26 20:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9920144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raionmimi/pseuds/Raionmimi
Summary: With Vishkar abolished, Symmetra finds herself plucked from her orderly lifestyle for good, especially now that she's being offered an olive branch by Overwatch... but, if they really wanted her to join, couldn't they have sent anyone other than the cowboy?





	1. Chapter 1

“You want some coffee? I mean, I don’t recommend it. Tastes like shit, but it’s better than nothing.”

Symmetra barely looked up to regard the man sitting across from her, hands tightening into fists under the table. Every time he opened his mouth to speak to her, she had to resist the urge to grind her teeth. Couldn't he tell that she had no intention of speaking to him? She wanted to be left alone for the time being, maybe even for the rest of her life, and yet here he was, pouring her a cup of coffee regardless if she wanted it or not. If it tasted as bad as it smelled, she could only imagine why he even chose this place to take her. The decor was beyond tacky and severely outdated. An American Western movie made into a reality, complete with dust and tumbleweed blowing outside. She was certain she saw a roach darted towards the bathroom.

“Eggs are getting cold. Should eat em up quick unless you like that sorta thing.”

She glanced down at the loaded plate before her. He had taken the liberty of ordering her a meal that she didn’t even ask for. _Americans are so obnoxious_ , she decided. Sniffing, Symmetra pushed the plate away from her and turned her head away. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to just go back to Vishkar despite everything that had happened. At least there, she wouldn’t feel as out of placed and empty. After the company had been exposed for their scandals, it had quickly been shut down with several members getting arrested for their involvement. She still had a hard time believing it all to be true. She had been raised as a child to be their shining prodigy, how could they been so awful when they promised a utopia.

The man sighed and leaned back into the booth, folding his arms behind his head. Symmetra took note that they both had a metal left arm, but that’s where the similarities ended. It looked like his had seen better days. Some of the parts were either dented and/or didn’t match in material or color as if they had been replaced along the way. Possibly an older model available to the general public, it just could not compare to her beautifully crafted, pristine prosthetic. Not a speck of dirt anywhere could be found on hers.

He flicked his hat up with his other hand and gestured towards her. “Look... I get it, I do. I gotta be honest when I say that I was in your boots some time ago back when I was a brat, and… you're walking away… Great.” He grumbled and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

Completely fed up, she had slammed her hands onto the table as she rose to her feet and stormed out of the diner. She ignored every single baffled look that the other customers threw her way and pushed the diner doors open. A wave of hot air pressed up against her skin, not unlike the heat of other countries she had visited in the past. The sun was blinding, and she held her hand to her forehead until her visor accommodated by tinting just enough to see more efficiently, not that there was much to see in this dump of a town. Route 66, what a joke. This was a desert wasteland, nothing but rocks, dirt, and men playing dress up. Well, at least one of them was.

Speaking of the devil, there he was in all his cowboy glory hounding after her. It was impossible to miss him when he had the most obnoxiously bright red serape and a stupid BAMF belt, whatever that actually even meant. She wanted no part of it. Him or Overwatch. How dare those dreadful criminals try and manipulate her situation in their favor… How were they any better than Vishkar when they were clearly just trying to exploit her abilities and knowledge?

“Hey now, I know I said I wouldn't put the cuffs on ya, but I can’t have you high tailing it outta here. I promised the fellas back home I’d return your pretty lil head no problem.”

She paused, partly because there really wasn’t anywhere else to go for miles, but also because his words struck a chord with her. Home. They referred to that ape’s laboratory in Watchpoint Gibraltar as a “home.” From her understanding, the previous Overwatch headquarters had been utterly obliterated several years ago in an unexplained explosion, and the group been disbanded ever since. Or at least until they came back together like the cockroaches they were. Was it not it illegal for them to even do such a thing? She was certain that there had been a law made specifically to forbid them from any activity. What made them think she would willingly thrust herself into their roguish lifestyle? Home indeed.

She turned her heel and jabbing a perfectly manicured finger at him. “Let me make myself clear, Mr. McCree-”

He smiled, hands raised as if she had pointed a gun at him. “Call me Jesse.”

She needed to take a deep breath and let it out. She hated when people interrupted her. “… _Mr. McCree_ , I have no intention of ever joining you and your ragtag team of misfits. No amount of your blatant blackmail will make me reconsider,” she sneered, irritated beyond belief. That carefree smile of his faded into a mixed emotion that she just couldn’t decipher, not that she was ever any good at reading people. Pity? Anger? Sadness? It was hard to determine, but it didn’t matter. She was not here to cater to his feelings; she was here to get Overwatch off her back and out of her life for good. The sooner she could try to pick up the pieces of her life, the better.

“All right, all right… I get where you’re coming from, but we’re not trying to blackmail you into doing nothing you don’t wanna do.”

“Jail or join Overwatch sounds plenty like blackmail, Mr. McCree.”

“Hm, y’got me there. So it’s _kinda_ like blackmail… but we mean well, really. We’re thinkin’ bout your best interest. B’sides, before your lil dramatic exit in the diner, I was tryin’ to tell you that I went through the same dirt path you’re on now. I know how just you feel bout this whole ordeal.”

“You? As if you could _possibly_ know how I feel!” She barked, stamping her foot on the dirt. “How could a…a criminal of all people know how I feel? None of you are ‘looking out for my best interest,’ as you claim. Do not even try to patronize me. This is all a ploy just to use my abilities for your illegal activity, and I am no fool to fall for this ploy.” He didn’t respond, his gaze slowly turning elsewhere. She took this as some sort of display of shame, failing to take notice of his hand lowering to his gun. “I will not stand for this no longer! Overwatch is nothing more than illegal fugitives! I will have nothing to do with you people!”

“Symmetra. This ain’t really the time nor place,” McCree muttered, putting up a finger to her lips in an attempt to silence her. “Somethin' ain’t right…”

Her blood boiled that he would even try to stop her. She slapped his hand away from her, disregarding the sting from hitting the metal. “Not right? _Not right_? Iwill tell you what is 'not right…' Overwatch preying on people in vulnerable positions in order to swindle them and force them into their devious ranks! It’s absolutely no surprise to me that the government tried to put an end to your-”

BANG!

Silenced by the sudden sound of gunfire, Symmetra scrambled back, nearly tripping over her own heels. Her ears were ringing, putting her in a temporary daze, and coughed as a small cloud of dirt hit her face. She put a hand over her mouth and nose, squinting as she tried to make sense of her situation. She had always been a quick thinker, but most of her assignments were simple, never really involving much violence. The immediate threat of danger was already pushing this beyond anything she really had to endure, and her spine shivered as she spied the reflective piece of metal poking out of the ground. A single bullet had dug it way into the dirt a couple of inches away from McCree’s boot. It was clearly meant for him, a possible warning shot or maybe even a miss, but she racked her brain for ideas why. Prior from leaving, she did see his image on a dartboard, though she had figured it was the standard appearance of most American men in this region. It was only now dawning on her that it was definitely a portrait of the man beside her. She was in the presence of a wanted man.

“What was that!? Why are they- ack!” Symmetra shrieked as McCree interrupted her yet again by scooping her up in his arm, holding her on his hip like she was nothing more than a sack of potatoes. The unwarranted touch threw her into a mild panic, her first instinct being to kick and screech. Her struggles only stopped when she spotted two men kneeling on top of the rocky buttes nearby, aiming their weapons down at them. One of them waved as a signal, and three more popped up, positioned on the diner’s roof. Something told her that these ruffians would have no qualms about her getting caught in the crossfire, simply collateral damage, and it made her blood run cold. She wasn't sure if she would even be able to stand up on her own without Mccree supporting her, let alone run anywhere to get away.

The modern cowboy spat on the ground, his gun, a revolver no less, at the ready. He didn't even look remotely phased by their unfortunate circumstances. “Sorry bout this, Ma’am, but to be honest, I didn’t quite bring you along just to have tea an crumpets to change your mind. I’m out here on some business, just wasn’t expecting them to come so late.”

Late? He knew he was going to get ambushed and with that information, he still brought her with? Was he trying to get her killed or use her as a meat shield? For someone who wanted to sign her soul to the Overwatch devil, he should at least hope to keep her safe and very much alive. The audacity of this man knew no bounds. She reached an epiphany. “You’re insane.”

“Nicest thing you said all day; think I’m growin’ on you.” McCree retaliated to their assailants with a single shot, impressively taking out one of the men on the diner roof. The man gurgled, grabbing at his throat, and coughed up his last breaths. It wasn’t long before he tumbled off the building at an alarming speed and hit the ground with a muffled thud, twisting in an impossible position. The corpse laid still on the desert sand and blood slowly trickled out of the wound. She was nauseous at the sight, nearly hurling as McCree dashed towards the diner again and practically dropped her onto one of the parked hover-cycles. He scooted up behind her, pushing her against the front. The key was luckily still inside, and the engine roared to life as he turned it.

“I-is this even yours?? We came here by jet!” Symmetra yawped, a little disorientated from being jostled into a cowboy movie.

“We’re borrowing it.”

Just as she thought. They’re criminals. She ducked and flinched as more gunshots cut through the air, making the ringing in her eardrums even worse. She hated the commotion, the noise, but she felt as though turning on the soundproof feature on her headset wouldn't be wise. Until they were in the clear, at that moment, it was critical that she could hear McCree and where the shots were coming from, but in the case that she went deaf from this she was definitely suing.

“And we’re off!” Jerking the handles to the side, he hollered and grinned as the hovercycle bolted out of the parking spot. He laughed wildly as if this was a game to him, a source of pure entertainment. She could only hope to keep her head low and cling for dear life.

If she survived from this, she would be sure to beat some sense into this street urchin.


	2. Chapter 2

If Symmetra could have describe the incident in a word, it would be chaos. Two words? Utter chaos.

Sitting just a bit off to the side of The Panorama Diner’s entrance, Symmetra was hyperventilating, hands clutching at her hair. She wasn't doing so well, unlike the unfazed cowboy puffing away at his cigar a few paces away. Only now did he apparently learn the concept of personal space. How thoughtful.

She desired nothing more than to fire a thousand insults, possibly even ones that would get her written up if she had dared to speak them at Vishkar, into him like there was no tomorrow, but she was having a hard time calming herself down. The pain in her chest only worsened with every harsh, uneven breath. The sounds, the commotion, her eyes trying to keep up with everything… it was too much for her to deal with. The last time she felt this overwhelmed was back in Rio when that ungrateful delinquent forced Vishkar out despite everything the company did for his run down, rotting little town.

“You ain’t a fighter, are you?” McCree finally asked, taking another long draw from his smoke. He leaned on the railing, staring out into the distance. After the entire fiasco, he didn't seem to have a single scratch on him, just dusty from the debris rising up during their hell ride. The same couldn't be said for the thugs that attacked them just moments prior. Symmetra still had to do double takes to make sure this was really happening, but dead men do not lie. Lying out on the ground, blood pooled from their wounded bodies, there was no way she could ever forget this. The aftermath was grizzly for someone who walked a path of harmony and self righteousness.

_But this could have ended so much differently…_

Symmetra let out a shaky laugh, her mind filled with ambivalent thoughts and swirling emotions. She was reluctantly coming to terms that she could have easily died and that her life would have amounted to nothing after all she had strived for. Every accomplishment she had achieved, every mistake that became her downfall… none of it would have mattered in the eyes of life and death. This was dangerous. Overwatch was dangerous. “N-no. I’m an architect. I’m not… I’m not cut out for this type of life if that is what you’re asking of me,” she managed to wheeze out, her exhaustion becoming more and more apparent as the adrenaline continued to fade away. “I’m not a fighter, far from it … I’m nothing like this. Like you. I-I’m just-"

He set the cigar down on the rail and came back to check up on her, spurs jingling as he walked closer. With careful consideration, he squatted down in front of her and removed his glove. Slowly, he held out his hand as if to let her know he was going to touch her. “Don’t worry about it,” he gently said, taking her thin hands and curling them around her lips. Normally, she would have been alarmed and indignant at the feeling of his rough, calloused skin, but she was in no condition to pick a fight with him. She didn't even complain about the scent of the tobacco lingering on his warm breath and clothes, even if it tickled her nose. “In and out like this, okay? Gotta breathe though the gut, not the chest, y’hear me? Nice and easy now, that’s it.”

She followed his instructions carefully, listening word for word; however, she couldn't make eye contact with him, stubbornly avoiding his gaze. It was utterly humiliating, not to mention uncomfortable, to be left in such a vulnerable state in front of a stranger like this. She almost half wished he would have left her at the diner instead of staying here with her after his “business” was over. Anything but having to be taken care of as if she were an incompetent child instead of the educated and prestigious prodigy she was. Even so, after a number of careful breaths under his supervision, she could feel her heart rate returning to its steady beat. Her body relaxed onto the wall behind her, almost melting into it with how tired she was. Maybe he was good for something after all.

“Atta girl, you’re doing just fine,” he smiled, brushing her cheek with his gloved hand. She didn't want to think about the dust he was most certainly getting on her. “Thanks for watching my hide out there. Y’know, you’re a helluva good support.”

Support? Oh, that’s right. In the midsts of his battle, she had reacted without thinking, quickly weaving shields from hardlight to protect them from onslaught of bullets coming from McCree’s blindsides. They were thin and somewhat transparent, yet could take a few hits, coasting easily into the air and absorbing the shots. However, after a certain amount of damage, they would eventually shatter into nothing, and she would have to replace it with another. Even at Vishkar, she never had to make a defensive item besides her turrets before, so this creation was relatively new, even for her. She started to consider all the research and blueprints she’d have to go though to learn new methods in order to perfect this new tool of hers. From her short tour of the Gibraltar headquarters, she remembered being told about the workshop areas and lab. There was certainly enough space for her to set up. She’d have to work diligently on the shield to be more durable and learn how to replicate them faster, so that the next time they-

Wait. What was she saying? There would be no next time, and there would especially not be a next time with him. Accurate with a revolver or not, she would rather walk barefoot on a the floor of the diner’s filthy public restroom than to willingly join him on another wild escapade like this.

“It was not done to ‘watch your hide,’ it was just a basic flight or fight response. Any logical person would see that. Nothing I did was intentionally trying to save your life, I’ll have you know,” she muttered, leaning her head back. “The fact that you're unscathed is entirely dumb luck. Besides, I wouldn't have had to make any shields had you not put me into danger in the first place.”

McCree snorted, seemingly not offended by her jabs, and took a load off next to her. He let out a loud sigh of relief the second he sat down. Glancing downwards, she immediately noticed that besides being grimy and speckled with dry mud, his serape was tattered and frayed at the ends. He had probably been at this lifestyle for years, and yet, he didn't seem so worn down by it. He was always poking fun and grinning as if all of this were nothing more than child’s play. “Yeah, I hear ya, Miss Sassafrass.”

“It’s Symmetra.”

He rolled his eyes but gave her another smile as he tapped his earpiece. “Hey, Ang? You there? Yeah, Took care of the crooked bunch that were lurking around here. I doubt that was all of em, but at least this thins their numbers. They probably won't be regrouping around here any time soon, but they’ll definitely be more cautious about their whereabouts in the meantime,” he said, reporting back to another teammate. Symmetra didn't bother to remember who was who during her incredibly short visit to Gibraltar, nor did she intend to. All she could tell by the muffled voice was that it was one of the few women that were stationed there. “Huh? Yeah, she’s right next to me. No, I ain’t lying- Hey, Symm, say somethin’ so Angie knows I’m not kiddin’ her.”

“No.”

“See? Perfectly safe and sound. I told you I could keep an eye out for her, and y’all had the nerve to doubt me. But listen, wanted to tell you that ETA is gonna be sooner than I thought it’d be, thanks to Symm over here. Can you believe it? The girl's been raggin’ on me all day about not wanting to join, but the next second, she’s out here jumping at the chance to save the day. Shoulda seen her singlehandedly pushing the enemy back like a champ.”

“I did no such thing. Stop that. You are deliberately spreading lies at my expense.”

The man seemed awfully amused as he ended the transmission, reaching out and ruffling her hair as if she were a pet. The more time she spent here with him, the more she found him a nuisance, a pain in her side, and she lamented over the fact that he probably wouldn't be leaving her alone until they finally saw that she was terribly unfit for Overwatch. What happened today was a fluke, a simple reaction that unexpectedly benefited them. There was nothing about being on a battlefield on a constant basis that appealed to her. She was not a soldier; fighting and killing was nowhere near her in her nature. Sure, she had her photon projector, but even that wasn’t meant to slaughter, at least not in her hands. Symmetra had tried explaining that to the Overwatch members who removed it from her when she was first brought over, but they simply stated it was a precaution. What they failed to realize was that she could have created another in an instant, but their knowledge of hardlight technology seemed vague at best. She hated the way the ape and dwarf kept pawing at it, trying to see how it worked when they thought she wasn't looking. If they meant to create a more efficient killing machine, they were tough out of luck. She designed it herself, and no one ever came close to replicating her inventions as well as she did each time.

“You all right now? Can you stand?” McCree asked as he got to his feet. He held out his hand for her to take, which she normally would have ignored. Her legs were sore from clamping onto the cycle so tightly the entire time, but it was only when he helped pulled her that she started feeling the full amount of burning in her muscles. When was the last time she had even exercised since her departure from Vishkar? Her usual routine had gone up in flames, and she hadn't had time nor energy to collect it from the ashes. She couldn't even remember a recent day where she had danced or stretched for morning yoga. It was no wonder why her body was aching so much. Her lips thinned, trying her best to keep her cool composure. She refused to groan or whine about it while he was here. Her pride had already been bruised enough as it was.

“Hah, you look like you could use a nap.”

“I can only wonder why that is, Mr. Mccree,” she sharply retorted, brushing herself off. The sooner she could get herself into a hot shower, the better. She needed to scrub herself clean at least three or so times to get all the sweat and never ending supply of dust off of her skin. “I imagine we will be returning now that your ‘mission’ is over?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, just need to do a couple of things before we head off. One of em being this,” he said as he held up the keys to the hovercycle he had snagged. He didn't look too concerned that the owner would be infuriated by the theft and possible damages done. There was at least two bullet holes in the sides from what she remembered. They were fortunate that it didn't stop the cycle from running. “Gotta hand these back and all. Come in with me?”

Her only interest in even going back in the diner was to see him get chewed out for his reckless stunt that put everyone there in jeopardy. Surely, someone in this bumpkin town had to be reasonable enough to see that he was a delinquent that needed to be stopped. The thought of him getting berated amused her greatly. “I suppose I could humor you a few more moments,” Symmetra simply said as she followed him back inside, feeling smug on the inside.

What she didn't expect was the cheering. Nothing could have prepared her for that. The second Mccree stepped foot inside that room, there was an abrupt round of applause, people scrambling left and right just to get close to him. It left her speechless and confused as she did her best to not get trampled on or jostled out of the way. Why were they praising a criminal like him? He just killed several men just outside their doors not even an hour ago. This sort of behavior was nothing that needed to be congratulated over, and yet, these people were eager to shake his hand or touch his serape as if he was a heavenly gift to this world. She swiftly maneuvered to the back of the room, away from the growing crowd, standing on her tiptoes to see if there would be any explanation on this unruly display of adoration towards the cowboy.

An older gentleman, who she assumed to be the owner of the restaurant, wasted no time in scurrying to Mccree, earnestly grabbed his hand, and shook it several times with no signs of stopping. “Yer a life saver! No, no… a hero! Just can’t thank you enough!” He beamed, stars shining in his eyes. “Those Deadlock goons didn't even have a chance! I’m mighty impressed you was able to fight them off just like that! Not to say I didn't expect yous to be so skillful, but to watch you in action- Phew! Never seen anythin so exciting in my life!”

 _No, it was a complete risk to everyone’s lives_ , Symmetra wanted to argue, hardly seeing what was so “exciting” about spinning around on a stolen bike and murdering random men. Her faith in these people plummeted. Everyone here was a lunatic.

“Aw, shucks… it was nothin’ really,” Mccree sheepishly replied, scratching at his beard. For a ruffian, he was rather humble and down to earth with the people who idolized him.“I know firsthand that Deadlock is a bunch of no good hellions, thinkin’ they can do whatever the hell they want, but they can’t just go draggin’ everyone down with them and causin’ trouble. I just wanna make this place safer for the folks out here. We don’t need no more chaos and wars. There’s been enough bad shit going on everyday, but…” Even with the crowd around him, he still managed to single out Symmetra all the way in the back and smiled. “Someday, we’ll make it a better world.”

Her face warmed up the moment the cowboy met her gaze. Was it a coincidence or intentional? Either way, she was a little annoyed at the creeping feeling of guilt slowly consuming her as she carefully processed his words. She didn't want to have to take back anything she said before, but hearing him share the same goal as her made her rethink her first impression of him. So maybe he wasn't just a trigger happy hooligan, just a fool with good intentions and poor execution. It still changed nothing between them. She wouldn't join him on these dangerous Overwatch missions. She could never take up arms in the name of peace. There was no winning when blood was shed.

“But I really couldn't have done this without my lovely partner,” he suddenly spoke up, gesturing to her and beckoning her to join his side. Suddenly, every eye was on her, curiously sizing her up, and several people whispered. They were surprised to see her standing there, unsure of how they didn't notice her walk back in with Mccree. Dressed in refined and stately clothes, she certainly looked like a person of important status compared to the homey, casual atmosphere of the diner. Combined with her flawless skin, a delightful umber, the color of the pure earth, and dark, intelligent eyes that could see straight into your soul, she stood out like an ethereal beauty amongst humans. Even as she slowly traipsed to Mccree and stood next to him, it wasn’t very clear of how he was connected to this mystery woman at all, hero or not.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, shuffling her feet. She disliked the feeling of being the center of attention. If her cheeks were warm before, they were on fire now. Why did that blasted man have to do this now after she was starting to think differently about him? 

“Can’t take all the credit, now can I?” He roped his arm around her, his hand resting on her shoulder. He was always acting so familiar with her, it was suffocating. She was so used to the silence and solemness of the Vishkar Corporation. No one would dare touch her like this; everyone always kept to themselves. She herself had extremely limited contact with anyone even when she studied her way through the Architect Academy. Did people really just go around grabbing each other like this in the outside world? She could feel the goosebumps prickling her skin where his hand was.

“Ma’am?” She was startled out of her thoughts, and she found herself looking straight into the owner’s eyes. He had removed his hat and was holding it against his chest.

“Y-yes…?” she awkwardly looked at Mccree who only shrugged with that stupid grin on his face. Honestly, this man was no help without his gun.

“It’s a real honor. Thank you too for keepin’ these parts clear. It means a lot to us small folk for Overwatch to still take up our requests,” he said as he bowed out of respect.

“Oh. I’m not part of- h-hey!” Symmetra huffed when Mccree gently kicked her ankle, and she glared at him with all the animosity of death. What was that about?

“What she means is she’s a new recruit. First day and all! She’s taking huge strides already, ain’t she? Real proud of her, my little underling; we all are at Overwatch!” He quickly piped up, squeezing her closer.

“No, I-"

“You bunch sure are lucky to have her! Say, ma’am, was that you making all them fancy floating stuff out there? Can't say I’ve ever seen anythin' like that.” The owner peered at her prothetic arm. “Is this doohickey how you make it?”

“Yes, well-"

“Do it again!” A child blurted out, “That was really cool!”

“Ah… it’s not that I cannot, but-"

“I’d like to see it up close myself,” another person chimed in.

Once more, the crowd was enthusiastic and cheerful, and it was a little overwhelming. Multiple people wanted her to show them the hardlight shields while others were showing their appreciation for her help. One lady even offered her “very single and available” son to marry her. Symmetra shrunk back into Mccree’s side, ironically wanting him to take her away from here. People were so much louder than bullets somehow. 

“As much as I’d love to stay long and show off the new recruit, we really outta be heading out,” he said, coming to her rescue as if he read her thoughts. “I just came to tell y’all that the deed was done, but thanks for all the warm words and welcome.” He laughed at the sound of disappointed groans. “And don't worry, it won’t be the last you see of me. I’ll always be ready for any request I see fit for justice.”

He reached into his pocket and dug out the pair of keys from the hovercycle he had taken. “And uh… to the owner of that blue bike out there? I, uh…” he awkwardly coughed. “I took it for a spin out there, but I think there may be a bit of damage to it. There’s uh… definitely a couple of bullet holes in there. I’ll pay for the damages.”

“That was my bike!” one man pushed his way to the front to retrieve his keys.

“Sir, I am so sorry..."

“I cant believe THE Mccree rode MY hover cycle!” He held the keys up to his face as if he was holding gold. “Did you hear that? The bonafide Mccree touched my bike and used it for! This is like a dream!”

* * *

 

Once they wrapped up in the diner and bid their goodbyes, Symmetra walked with him out the door, looking over her shoulder as the people in the diner waved and saw them off. Once they were out of ear shot of the place, she looked at him from the corner of her eye. “…Why did you tell those people I was part of Overwatch? Is this a new induction tactic? Are you attempting to guilt me into joining now, so I don't have to lie to them?” She sounded more curious than angry at the very least.

He shook his head and sighed. “No, that wasn't my intention, trust me.”

“Well then, why did you say that?” she asked, trying to keep up with his strides. This was definitely the last time she wore heels in the middle of a desert.

“Symmetra, look… times are still pretty rough out here. The Omnic Crisis might’ve been 30 years ago, but you and I both know the world has yet to recover from it. Overwatch used to be a symbol of hope for people, for me too even, and if bandin’ back together can do that again, you better believe I will let them cling to it. They need that small bit of happiness and security more than ever. I’m sorry for fibbin’, really I am, but I wanted to preserve that moment for them.”

“Oh.” She didn't know what else to say in return, and they spent the rest of their trek back to the jet in silence. It wasn't until they were up in the air after some time that she spoke up again.

“… Now what?” she asked, watching Mccree input the coordinates for Watchpoint Gibraltar. As archaic as he looked with his outfit, he was surprisingly good at piloting this thing. She couldn't make heads or tails of the controls or buttons. He did mention before that a few of the members on Overwatch, especially one other, knew how to fly it. In the past, they had several pilots on the controls, but they didn't have that privilege now with their numbers being so few.

“What do you mean?” He flipped some switches, not looking at her from his seat in the cockpit.

“You know what I mean. What are you going to do now? About me. I still have not agreed to join, remember?” She tapped her pointer finger and thumb on her prosthetic hand to calm her nerves. She was very uncertain of what would occur now that his job was done. He never mentioned what they'd be doing afterwards, nor did she think to ask. 

“Yeah, I know.”

The short reply was unexpected and somehow made her even more anxious. Was he mad? He didn't sound like he was angry, but she could be wrong. “… Are you not going to try and persuade me some more? Is that not your hobby, being an annoyance and pestering me?”

Mccree snorted and set the jet on auto-pilot before heading down the steps and sitting in the seat next to her. “No, you don’t have to worry none. I got other hobbies too. You made your decision, and that’s that.”

She wasn't sure how she felt about his sudden change of heart. “Are you certain? This isn’t some type of reverse psychology, is it? Because I hope you know I will not fall for petty schemes.”

“No plots, no schemes, Symmetra, Scouts honor. I respect that Overwatch is too much for you. I realized it the second I saw you hyperventilating out there. Wouldn't want you to be afraid or get hurt just because we want you out there on the field with us. You’re a sharp mind and lord knows you’d be a perfect fit for us, but I aint gonna force it on you.” He gently patted her back to reassure her but stopped the second he noticed that she leaned away. “We’re just gonna go back, let you clean up and rest, then you’re free to go.”

“What about the deal? I thought my only choices were rotting in prison or joining the likes of you,” she reminded.

“We’ll figure something out, it’ll be all right. I'm sure of it.” He took off his hat and put it over his face as he slouched down in the seat to rest. “Wake me up if we’re gonna crash or something.”

For the first few hours, Symmetra was uncharacteristically restless. She tried closing her eyes, but she just couldnt doze off. She envied past-Symmetra for being able to sleep so soundly during the ride to Route 66. She tried meditating, but her mind was too unfocused. Nothing she did seemed to work. For once, sitting in silence didn't bode well with her. She wanted to talk more about her situation with Overwatch, or anything really. It would take some time for them to return, and she still didn't like how things were playing out. It seemed like her situation was still wildly up in the air, and she hated not being certain of something. There was no way there it could be as simple as her just leaving as if she had never came. Eventually, she glanced over at Mccree, who was lightly snoring underneath his hat, and tugged at his sleeve.

“Mccree,” she whispered, “wake up.”

“… We gonna crash?” He grumbled in response, rousing from his sleep.

“No, we are in perfectly stable condition actually.”

He pulled the hat down just enough to uncover one eye. She had been acting pretty odd ever since they left the diner, but he figured it'd better not to pry. “All right. Goin’ back to sleep then.”

“Wait, I… I wish to speak to you,” she mumbled, a stark contrast to her behavior from before. She was still tapping her finger tips together, making soft repetitive clicks.

“Yeah? About what?” He was a little intrigued as to what she could possible want to talk about with him. All day she was trying to do everything but.

“About what you were trying to tell me in the diner. You mentioned to me that you were in my position once with joining overwatch. I apologize for interrupting before, that was rude of me, but I want you to tell me now.”

He stared for a moment, not really expecting that. He even forgot that he brought it up to her. “Now?”

“Yes.” 

He groggily sat up, not displeased at being woken up just to tell her a story, or at least, she hoped he wasn’t. “Huh, well if that’s what you really want, I reckon I can share with you. Just give me a second to wake up a bit, Symmetra,” he yawned as he stretched his arms over his head, hat back on his head.

“…Call me Satya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I stayed up till like 5am and then finished this at like 8am. Special thanks to BountifulBounty for making me motivated to finish this! Sorry it took this long for me to get it out, but on the bright side, it's a little longer than the first chapter. Enjoy and let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

_Now arriving at Watchpoint: Gibraltar._

 

Symmetra looked up from her novel, glancing around as the AI system, _ATHENA_ , announced safety procedures for landing. Mccree had already returned to the cockpit, steering the jet closer to their destination. She looked out the window, and in the cloudy distance, she could vaguely make out the Overwatch Headquarters. The facility was nestled and hidden away, seemingly abandoned to an onlooker, amongst the jagged cliffs. Only a few lights were on at this hour, making the island appear dreary and lonely in the midsts of the never-ending, dark ocean depths. As they approached the landing pad, Symmetra involuntarily began tapping her foot against the floor. Seeing this place did nothing but increase her anxiety.

“You all right?” Mccree asked, looking over his shoulder. 

Embarrassed that he must have heard her tapping, she attempted to stop but couldn't. “I am… not sure,” she admitted, not breaking her steady gaze from the window. During the ride back, her stomach had felt as though it was coiling itself into several tight knots. Her fingers drummed on the open pages of her book. She had spent more time re-reading the first couple of pages than anything, unable to concentrate and constantly forgetting what she had just read. She couldn't even say what the title was if anyone had asked her. Despite the several hours they had been flying, it was still too soon to be here.

Not knowing what would happen was killing her bit by bit. She was so used to being in control, so used to knowing what to do. Machines were so much easier to understand. There was no uncertainty, only a routine to follow time and time again, and every problem had an answer. The simplicity in it was all she wanted in life, but people were entirely different. They were unpredictable and that alone made them terrifying. While Mccree was seemingly unbiased, she fretted the stares and whispers the others had made. Her ties with Vishkar would probably never fade away no matter what she said. Would they believe her if she said she wouldn't just scamper back to Vishkar to report what she found out about Overwatch? Probably not, especially when there were several rumors that the infamous terrorist group, Talon, had been a large part of the company’s corruption. They’d have to treat her like a prisoner of war, wouldn't they? Just to keep their location safe from a possible mole. The plausibility of it scared her.

Once the jet hovered over the landing pad before slowly touching the ground, Mccree flipped off the switches and made sure everything would be ready for the next flight. After he made a quick double check, he opened the hatch and a ramp extending itself for them to step down from. Politely, he offered his hand to her to assist her way down. “Well, no worries. You and I are gonna wash up and hit the hay, just like I said before. It’s all gonna be a breeze tomorrow,” he promised, giving her a small smile. 

Symmetra found it odd that she even felt an inkling of trust in him in a time where everything screamed otherwise. She presumed it was out of pure desperation. “Very well.” She surprised herself by accepting his help, but she was too lost in her worries to really dwell on it. Stepping foot on the concrete, she looked back and watched as the ramp retracted and the door slowly closed itself. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she would be able to run back inside and use ATHENA to pilot, so she could escape to… to…

The plan came to a halt. That’s right, after Vishkar, she would have nowhere to go. She had to constantly remind herself that there was no longer a home for her out there. The entire empire of her life had crumbled into dust, and she was left with nothing. She had no friends of her own, her family she hadn't seen for more than twenty years, and every place she had ever stayed at had been provided for her from the company itself. No matter where she went, she felt as though people were staring at her, judging her for her connection to the company. Even if she pleaded that she had no idea of how crooked they had become, she feared that no one would believe it, and she couldn't blame them.

A sudden squeeze from Jesse brought her back into the reality, and she realized he still had a hold of her hand. Her energy was far too low to make a fuss, and every second that passed, her body felt like it was fading away into nothingness. She wondered if she’d blow away in the wind if she let go of him. The metal of his hand was surprisingly warm to the touch, giving off its own heat, and she tried concentrating on it to keep herself rooted.

“Lights are on in there, so Winston’s probably up I bet. I gotta check in with him, so come with me and we’ll go get you tucked in later. Must be jet lagged going there and back.” He gently tugged, leading her up the way to Gibraltar lab. He made sure to walk her pace this time and didn't make her talk anymore than she had to.

The lab hadn't changed much in the last couple of days, a decent space for a small number of people and a few projects going on. Giving everything a second look over, Symmetra could honestly say that she was a little impressed by the technology and development here. Not to say Vishkar was behind, but they were sometimes limited in what they could create or work on. If it wasn't by the book, Vishkar wanted nothing to do with it. It was by pure luck that she was able to develop her teleporter and wasn’t scolded for wasting time on an irrelevant project. In fact, they replicated it and adapted it into their daily lives. As proud as she was of that accomplishment, she remembered being warned that she shouldn't step out of line again. It wasn’t the first nor the last time she had gotten that remark. In retrospect, Vishkar had always tried to limit creativity, despite having the whole world at their fingertips, just to keep their employees under their thumb. She was a little envious of the free spirit of science that Overwatch members had.

“Hypothetically speaking, of course, but… if I had decided to join Overwatch…” she started, looking around at the equipment a little longer. Such development could really be beneficial for the world, and to think that none of the creative thinking would be restrained… It almost made her want to get down and start tinkering with anything that would dance out of her thoughts. Ever since she was a child, she could always see symbols and designs that drifted into her head, always more prominent when she danced until one day they became tangible to the world. Even in her wildest dreams, Symmetra would have never seen her life come this far. “Would I have had access to the lab as well?”

“Huh? Well, yeah I guess so. There’s some other workshop areas, though some haven’t been touched in years since we lost so many people after we were disbanded. Sure everything there would work just fine though. I personally don’t really visit em that much ‘less I need to do some maintenance on this old thing, though I prefer doing that in the comfort of my own room.” He let go of her hand to wiggle his fingers and turning it over to inspect it. “Can’t say it needs some anytime soon, thanks to you. Not even a dent or a scratch from today.”

“Hm.” She glanced at her hand, the warmth from his metal was dwindling fast. It had been comforting while it lasted, but she had too much pride to ask him to let her hold it again.

“Anyways here, you can sit down if you want,” Jesse said as he wheeled a stool out from under the table and patted the cushion. “It’ll only take a sec, but those heels don't look forgiving so you may as well. I don't know how you managed to walk all day in em, but more power to ya.” He gestured to her shoes.

“We were on the jet for nearly 9 hours, I will be fine,” she mumbled, still taking the seat anyways.

He smiled again, giving her another pat on the head. “I’m just messing with you, Satya.”

She awkwardly slumped down onto the table, leaning her forehead against her folded arms. Even though she willingly gave him her name, she wasn't used to hearing him say it. When she was addressed by her superiors, her name sounded like more like a number in a file than a person. Everyone was always precise and certain. The way Mccree said it reminded her of people at the marketplace in Hyderabad, a faded memory of people being familiar and close yet easily overwhelming. The stark difference made her feel unsure which one she truly preferred.

“You’re more beat than I thought you were,” Symmetra heard him say, but she didn't look up. His footsteps began to trail away but stopped for a moment as if he forgot something or was hesitating. Seconds later, he was already coming back to her, his boots visible when she tilted her head just enough to see the floor. At first she thought he was going to say something else to her until she felt a warm cloth placed on her shoulders. Her view of his shoes was blocked with a wall of burgundy. It was unmistakable that this was his serape, and as ragged as it was, the intimacy of sharing what she assumed to be a precious belonging, made her pull her arms around her head even closer. 

With a bit of reflecting, she had to concede that he really had been nothing but kind to her, no matter what she said to him. Even now, despite completely rejecting the, albeit questionable, olive branch that Overwatch had extended to her, he was doing his best to help her and was patient through and through. Perhaps, she could try to make a more conscious effort to be kinder in return, maybe express her gratitude somehow. Closing her eyes, she tried to think of how to just what to say and hopefully, by the time he came back, she’d have rehearsed it enough times in her head that she’d give a flawless delivery. 

A knock at the door startled her awake, and she quickly sat up. With an immediate scan, she realized she wasn’t in the lab anymore but rather the temporary room they had set up for her stay. She was still wearing her clothes from yesterday, not that she had other suitable things packed. It was agreed upon that she shouldn't wear her Vishkar uniform anymore to avoid confusion or conflict, so she had only thought to wear the cyan dress she sometimes wore on espionage missions. Wearing the outfit usually made her feel more confident, so she figured it’d help her through this ordeal of going in and out of Gibraltar. Imagine her surprise when Mccree took it upon himself to drag her off to Route 66 the night she had arrived, a trip that leaked into the next two days. She had spent too much time here, and now she was in a bed that didn't belong to her.

“But how did I get here…” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she tried to remember what happened the day before. From what she could rouse from her memory, they had arrived extremely late in the night, and she was waiting for Mccree in the lab. She must have fallen asleep there, but did she get up at some point to come back here? No, she couldn't recall wandering back to her designated room. Assuredly, she would have remembered that much if she had. 

Turning her head and seeing the nightstand beside the bed quickly answered her question. A bundle of clothes, most likely borrowed from another female member, nestled on its surface. From the looks of it, there was a white sweater and jeans, something she probably would not have chosen to wear. A note was sitting on top, and when she picked it up to read it over, she saw Mccree’s big, messy scrawl addressed to her.

_Hey Satya!_

_Didn't expect you to hit the hay so fast,_

_so I hope you don't mind that I carried you to bed_

_Here’s some fresh clothes to borrow._

_Leave your stuff in the hamper,_

_and whoever’s on laundry duty can get it_

_See you for breakfast,_

_Jesse_

 

The idea of him carrying her made her pale. Did he carry her like a rag doll or a sack of potatoes? He did it once before without her dead weight. Was she too heavy for him? Or worse, did anyone see him lugging her around down the halls? Symmetra pictured her limp body and hair dangling at his side as he trekked all the way from the lab. She put her hands on her face and dragged them down her cheeks; how embarassing… She wanted to ask him about it, but she feared the answer would mortify her even more.

Wait… the door. There was a knock.

Jumping out of bed, taking in a sharp breath when the freezing floor touched her feet, she hurried to slip out of her clothes, tossing them where she had been instructed, and tugged on the fresh, clean ones. Thankfully, the material wasn’t too uncomfortable for her, but she wouldn't go out of her way to wear them again. Without checking herself properly, she went to the door and opened it, expecting to see Mccree grinning down at her with some cheesy one-liner. “U-uh, good morning?” There wasn’t anyone there but suddenly a petite, brunette woman popped up from the floor, nearly giving Symmetra a heart attack. Taken aback, she could only stand there in shock.

“Oh! You’re up, good! Thought it might get a liiiiittle bit awkward if I just stood out here waiting for ya right outside your door, but I figured you might be sleeping. Didn’t want ya to miss out on breakfast, and-”

  
Definitely not the cowboy and somehow even more annoying in the span of a few seconds. She spoke so quickly and had a high pitch to her voice that it was a little hard for Symmetra to listen to. She instinctively put a hand to her headset, ready to dial down the volume intake, as it would be rude to use the mute function, but realized it must have been taken it off. Glancing back at her bed, she noticed that it was left at the foot of her bed. “I see. Where is J-… the escort that was here before?” She asked, not sure if she should address him so informally. He did say that it would be okay to refer to him by his first name some time ago, but the idea of saying it to someone else made her feel a little rather sheepish.

“Aw, you mean Mccree? He’s waitin’ for us at the mess hall with everyone else. You shoulda seen his face, was all pouty that he didn't get to fetch you,” the woman giggled. “Never seen em give a look like that before! So disappointed! You must have really made an impression~!”

Symmetra half wanted to say that she’d prefer it if he had gone and brought her over instead of this woman, but she decided it’d be best not to. “I assume you’ll be taking me there in his stead?” She asked, not picking up on any of Tracer’s deliberate prodding. In a perfect world, the woman would only be there to take her laundry and leave her be, but as fate would have it, life was not fair.

“Yeah, of course! You’ve never been down there, have you? I’ll lead the way! Lena’s the name by the way. They call me Tracer on the field. Can call me either or, I don’t mind!” For it being so, presumably, early, this person was beyond energetic. She couldn't even stay still for a moment, gently bobbing on the balls of her feet and animatedly gesturing with her hands. “You’re Satya, right?”

Inwardly wincing, she shook her head and held up a hand. Sure, it was rather odd to hear Mccree say it, but it was certainly better than hearing this chatterbox gremlin. Every passing moment, her patience thinned. “I’d prefer it if you didn't refer to me on a first name basis. Vaswani is perfectly adequate.” 

“You sure are serious, aint'cha? Well, we don’t wanna be late! Come along then!” Tracer chirped as she suddenly blinked down the hallway, several paces away, waving at her with a cheeky grin. “We can still get there before Reinhardt eats all the goodies! C’mon, Vaswani!”

With a deep, heavy sigh, Symmetra retrieved her shoes and slipped them on before following Tracer off to the mess hall. The halls were a small maze going here and there, but becoming familiar with the infrastructures of a building were second nature to her. The longer she was here, the more certain she was that she could draw out a map of the entire base before the day would end. If she was dedicated enough, she could probably even make a small model of it, perfectly to scale. Not only that but she could look into the areas she noticed that needed to be improved. With so few members returning, it wasn’t surprising that the maintenance on the building wasn’t their first priority. She considered asking Mccree to put in a good word for her to Winston and allowing her clearance to do adjustments and rebuilding as she saw fit.

  
_There you go again, making plans for something you have no intentions of being a part of…_ she mused, running her hand along the wall as she walked, making no effort to try and keep up with Tracer, who was practically bouncing around and repeatedly attempting to make small talk. Symmetra gave short answers or an occasional hum, hoping that at some point, her talkative companion would stop, but that point never came. The moment she saw a group of people standing and straggling around through the windows of a door, she felt relief. Ironic, given that she hated crowds.

Without waiting to hear another word from Tracer, she hurriedly went inside and gave a brusque goodbye. Being the introvert she was, her energy would have been depleted to zilch if they had stayed in the same proximity any longer than they had. At that point, she internally bargained with life that she would never complain about Mccree’s friendliness if it meant not having to get drained like this again. 

Speaking of the devil, seeing him was a breath of fresh air. He was seated at a table by himself with two empty plates in front of him. His head was propped up by one hand and had a small frown, but it cleared the moment he saw her approach. “Hey, there’s my girl,” he warmly said, sitting up straight and running hand through his hair.

“Good morning,” she replied, taking note that not only was most of his gear wasn’t on, but his hat was placed across from him, near where she stood. She wondered if he was underdressed solely becuase it was the start of the day or if he wasn't going on any escapades today. To be courteous, she walked around the table to sit next to him.

“Uh, Symm-” He looked mildly surprised, looking back to where his hat was and then at her.

“Satya.” 

He let out a small chuckle at that. “Satya, right. But actually I put my hat over there to save you a spot if you wanted. I mean, I don’t mind or nothing, but I just thought you might not have known where you wanted to sit.”

As she thought, she really didn't mind it so much when Mccree spoke her given name. He was a lot calmer and his voice was pleasant to the ears in comparison to Tracer’s. “I see, should I change my seating arrangements then?” She asked, ready to stand up and follow his direction.

“Wha- hold on there; I said I don't mind,” he said as he made the motion to touch her forearm but didn't go through with the act.

Symmetra settled back onto the bench and nodded. She was starting to take note that he was making more conscious efforts not to touch her without warning, or at least, that’s what it looked like to her. Either way, it made her content. “Very well then.”

“My, you two are getting along just fine, aren’t you?” Another woman bemused as she paused by their table. She had a similar sweater, hers being a soft river blue that complimented her eyes, as Symmetra. Most likely she the person that had lent her the clothes. “And here I was, worried that Jesse wouldn't be able to bring you back in one piece, but I heard you were the one taking control of the situation. If that was the case, then I guess I had nothing to worry about in the end then.”

“Wha- _hey_ , I take offense to that!” 

“He looked after me just fine, thank you for your concern, Doctor Ziegler,” Symmetra said, coolly coming to his defense.

The woman smiled, “Oh, so you know of me?” 

“Of course, you are a very prominent figure in this world after all. There have been countless articles and news stories about your research and breakthroughs in the medical field. I consider you a very inspirational role model, and I hope you are able to continue your work to better this world,” Symmetra said. Out of all the members of Overwatch, Dr. Ziegler was the only one she had ever read about, though sometimes she had wondered why the doctor had joined Overwatch of all organizations. From what she remembered, Dr. Ziegler was a self declared pacifist, yet the missions they went on were dangerous and riddled with the pain of war. Still, she admired anyone who was out to help being good in the world. She was a little disappointed in herself for not being able to do so. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Aha, I’m flattered! Please, call me Angela. And what should I call you, Miss Vaswani?” She held out a thin hand to shake. 

“Just that, thank you,” Symmetra insisted as she shook hands, connecting the dots that the "Ang" Mccree had been talking to the day before and Dr. Ziegler were the same person. Everyone was on such a personal level with each other, having nicknames and making, what she assumed to be, inside jokes. She didn't have a place in it, and perhaps, it was better that way. She wouldn't know how to join in, even if she wanted to.

“Understood, but you better get your food soon or else they’ll get cold. Go on now, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” Mercy happily said, leaving to go join Tracer and an unbelievably large man at their own table who roared a hearty welcome to her.

The second she was out of earshot, Mccree turned to her with a puzzled expression. “Vaswani, huh?”

“What of it?” She asked, picking up one of the plates and looked for where the food was being served. She carefully observed as Tracer zipped by, carrying a tray to a counter where the short bearded man was standing on a chair and handing out everyones meals as they came up. Following suit, she started to make her way over. “It _is_ my name after all.”

“Nothin’ I guess,” Mccree replied, putting his hat on and joining her. “Just wondering why you told them to call you Vaswani instead of your first name.”

“You do the same as well, do you not? I’ve heard most everyone refer to you by your surname. I hardly see what the difference is with mine. The fact of the matter is, my preference is being on a professional level with my peers.”

“But you let me call you Satya,” he countered.  
  
“I… that… That is because you are the least professional person here,” she huffed. She was a little annoyed that he was absolutely correct. There was no logic behind her allowing him to be on such friendly terms while she kept everyone else on neutral grounds. Then again, their talk on the jet had made her a little softer towards him, not that she’d tell him that. Hearing him go on about the details about his life with Deadlock when he was just a young boy and making mistakes that he’d atone for later in life made her feel a bit more connected to him. Once she was more receptive to hearing him talk about it, she could finally understand why he volunteered to talk to her. It was just like he said, he was once in her shoes and he only wanted to help. 

“Is that your roundabout way of saying you consider me your friend now?” He smugly asked, gently nudging her arm.

“It most certainly is not.”

“Are you lovebirds done with yet with yer quarreling, or are you just gonna hold up the line and let all this slop get cold?” The cook gruffly retorted, waving what looked like a giant claw at the two. 

Mccree’s ears turned red, but Symmetra seemed unfazed by the jab as if she had never heard the phrase used for people before. She was so busy talking that she hadn't realized they were already in the midsts of the breakfast queue. With a simple “My apologies,” she held out her plate as she had seen the others do. 

The older man gave her a good, long look before he plopped a healthy portion of mashed potatoes on the side. “Yer that architect, aren't ya? The one from Vishkar,” he asked, tilting his head as if he was trying to remember.

“Yes. I believe you were fiddling with my photon projector a couple of days ago.” She hadn't forgotten walking past the room where they were keeping it for safekeeping. Both he and Winston were looking it over and playing around like it was a toy. 

“Is that what you call that flimsy looking contraption?” He offhandedly said, ready to give her a large slab of ham, but when she held up a hand to say no, he instead gave it to Mccree. Reaching over he grabbed a bowl of salad and handed it to her, which she readily accepted. 

“The material created by hard light is by no means _flimsy_. You must be misinformed. In fact, there has been much research and planning into getting it to be light yet durable if that is what you are talking about.”

“Eh, if you ask me, building from scratch is what really makes a solid foundation. Now that’s something that’ll last you for decades. Not some lightweight whatchamacallits.” He finished serving Mccree his food and was ready to give the next person’s theirs.

“I don’t recall anyone asking you,” she sniffed.

Mccree snorted as he gently pushed her upper back to redirect her away from the meal line before she could drag out their debate with Torbjorn. “All right now, I’m sure you two can continue this another time. Thanks for the meal, Torb. Sure it’s great as always.”

“And what is so amusing?”  


“I just didn't know you could get so riled up and competitive just like that,” he teased. “So much to learn about you, aint there?”

“I was not getting ‘riled up.’ Rather, Science and technology are competitive fields, you know. Of course there will be discussions and arguments just as there will be opinions as well as wrong opinions,” she mumbled. Truth be told, she really wanted to go back just to prove herself right. It was kind of exciting to be suddenly thrusted into a war of words about a field of her interest. Something like that wouldn't really be allowed amongst her coworkers as it would make a scene. “But believe me, hard light is by far the most superior method of building there is!”

“That so? Should really tell me more about it when we got downtime.”

Her eyes gleamed brighter than the light she wielded. “Most certainly, I was one of the company’s best. I could supply you with just about any information regarding this topic.” If there was anything she liked doing, it was talking about things that fascinated her. Not that she got many chances to do so. Even in interviews with magazines and journals, they’d have to cut her answers short because she’d go on and on. It left her disappointed, so she mostly jotted things down to read to herself. People only wanted the specifics.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll whip up a bowl of popcorn if we got any bags laying around in the kitchen,” he said, completely genuine about it. “I kinda like how animated you get when you’re real into something. Easy to see how passionate you are as a person.”

“My thanks. But, may I ask you something?” She piped up once they were back at the table. Even then, she chose to sit next to him.

“Course, ask away,” he said, already tearing into his food. Symmetra noted that he had a hearty appetite. Understandable, given his line of work would require him to have a steady intake of calories and the likes.

“Why were you not the one to get me this morning. That girl… the one with the orange leggings over there…”

“Orange…? You’re talking about Tracer, right? Tiny one with a pixie cut? Talks about a mile a minute?” 

“Yes, that is the one. She said you were particularly disappointed that you were not able to. Is that true?”

Mccree almost choked and grabbed the closest glass of water, which was hers, to help clear his throat. With teary eyes, he shook his head and wheezed out, “Is that what she said?” He grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth. “What else did she say? Actually don’t tell me. Don’t listen to her, she just hears what she wants to hear and runs off with it. She’s a good kid, and I respect her, but that ain’t what happened.” He realized his mistake and pushed the cup towards her. “Sorry, thought this drink was mine.”

Symmetra peered at the cup with mild disgust and pushed it back to his side of the table, thankful she didn't actually drink out of it yet. The notion of sharing drinks was off-putting to her, and she was sure that Dr. Ziegler would entirely agree. “No thank you… but if what she presumed wasn't true, then what happened?”

“Thing is somebody had to get you, and I was gonna volunteer buuuut she outgunned me on it. Said she’d be there and back in a jiffy. She’s a quick one, chronal accelerator or not, so her going woulda made sense for her to go. I wouldn’t have really minded if it was for anything else, but I just kinda figured she was gonna be a little too… hm, how should I say it… too _much_ for ya right off the bat, so I tried convincing her that I should be the one to go. She took it the wrong way and zipped off. That’s all that happened.,”

  
“ _Much_ is one way to put it,” she replied.

“She’s an acquired taste for the quiet ones, grumpy in Ol’ Torb’s case, but when and if you warm up to her, trust me, she’s a real gem as a friend and a partner on the battlefield. Back in the day, she even managed to get the old man who used to run things around here to have a change of heart on things. I’d bet you'd get along once you get to know her. She’s a squeaker for sure, but she got a real heart of gold.”

Symmetra rubbed her prosthetic arm, fingertips gliding against the glossy alloy. “Unfortunately, given my circumstances, I do not believe I will ever ‘warm up to her’ as you say. Or any one of these people for that matter.”

“Ahh, hmm… Well, At least you got me, right?” he asked with a quiet laugh as he handed her his cup to make up for drinking hers.

  
“I hardly think that counts,” she replied, taking the cup and sipping from it. Despite people saying water had no taste, she was always very aware of the flavor. She never did like water that tasted bitter to her, but the water here was subtly sweet. She relaxed her shoulders and the corners of her lips twitched, showing a brief smile. “But I appreciate the thought.” 

After they were done with their meal, Mccree took their plates and led her over to the kitchen. “Here’s where the cooking and washing gets done. Everyone’s assigned a different chore, depending on who’s on missions and who’s not. Makes it a helluva lot easier to keep this place up and running than just letting one person do it. There’s cooking duty, laundry, uhh mopping the floors, and whatever else needs to be done basically. I’m actually on dishwashing duty today, but you can just sit there and wait for me if you want,” he said as he rolled up his sleeves and let the water run to give everything a good soak before washing the food residue off. “Usually, I’d just let em pile up till dinner time before I started, so I can knock em out in one go, but may as well get a head start.”

“I could help,” she suggested, looking around at the amount of plates and cooking tools in the sink. There weren’t too many given that there were only a handful of people here, but it’d definitely would go by quicker if the two of them went at it, especially if he’d have to clean more later on. “If I am not to join Overwatch, the least I could do is to help you with your errand.”

“You sure? You really don't have to stick around here just cuz I am. Feel free to wander wherever; besides, there’s gonna be a lotta stuff with leftover pieces on em. Especially when Torb brings back the stuff he was serving from.” He held up a plate with a bit of fat from the ham on it. “Doesn’t bother me none, but you okay with that shit touching you?”

She made a face, picturing the feeling of loose scraps rubbing against her bare skin in the water. “No. That is entirely why dish gloves were made.”

“Reckon you're right; here, we got a pair in the cabinets somewhere. If you get it, I’ll let you help out then.” 

She opened a few cabinet doors before she finally found the gloves half buried by a package of paper plates. Tugging them out and putting them on, she went to his side and grabbed a spare sponge. 

Truthfully, Symmetra had never actually had to wash dishes before in her life. In the academy, nearly everything was accommodated for her, despite her being entirely isolated from most others, and even as an adult. All she had to do was listen to everything she was told and in return, she didn't have to lift a finger for mundane needs. It was instilled in her that these little chores were beneath her, and that there was always low ranking underlings who would do it for her. In essence, this way of thinking had made her reliant on them, and during all that time, she had never even realized it. It was normal routine for her to not focus on anything except her studies or research, never bothering to learn how to cook, to do her own laundry, or any other independent living skills. She wondered if Vishkar had intentionally groomed her to be dependent on them to prevent her from ever considering leaving them since she lacked several skills to live on her own. Chances were, they probably assumed she’d find herself overwhelmed by all the unlearned tasks that would accumulate and would return back to them. The concept bothered her, and she promised herself that she wouldn't allow herself to live on being so incompetent. A simple, elegant method of showing her old employers that they had no longer had any control over her.

She glanced over at Mccree and watched him clean the dishes. As she thought, there didn't really seem anything to it, and with the gloves, she wouldn't have to worry about the residue. Taking the sink next to his and squirting a bit of soap on her sponge, she started scrubbing the first plate and let the water wash the suds and food away. Following what her partner was doing, she put it aside on a towel to dry before going for the next item to clean. It became a pattern to her, and like a machine, she was able to take down everything in her grasp with precision and speed. Some time ago, she would have thought washing dishes as something not worth her time when she had research to be done, but this was actually enjoyable to her and helped keep her mind off of things for the time being. 

“What song is that? Sounds pretty nice.” 

Oh. She had been humming while she worked, a habit she always had for as long as she could remember; however, she only did it when she was completely alone so she didn't interrupt anyone else’s work. There was something about Mccree that made her drop her guard more times than she would have liked, and ironically, it’s what made her feel icy towards him when they had met.

“No, no keep going.” When she shook her head, he asked, “Do you sing?”  
  
“What? No, I do not _sing_. I haven't sang anything since I was a child.” It was true, dancing was one thing becuase it directly helped with her fabricate hardlight better than anyone else, but singing? Singing was an entirely different story. 

“Pity, bet you’d be real good at it.”

“Do _you_ sing, Mr. Mccree?” She asked, trying to deflect the spotlight off of her. She was sure if he kept pressing on with the subject, he’d ask her to sing for him, and something told her, she’d feel obliged to do so just because it was him. She was worried that, without having sung in so long, she wouldn't know what she’d sound like and making repugnant screeches in front of him was the last thing she’d want to do.

“Hey, if you say I gotta call you Satya, I want you to call me Jesse. That’s a fair deal, right?”

“… Not in front of the others,” she hesitated. It was a bit disconcerting to be on such casual terms and letting other people see. If she was being truthful, she still wasn’t used to being around Mccree, but whether she realized it or not, her unwavering focus had coiled itself around him. The slowly growing bond between the two was no doubt a unique experience for her. Every moment they had pulled and coaxed her out of her comfort zone. Sometimes it was a little difficult for her to truly comprehend the dynamics of it; after all, a person was far more unpredictable than her once set routine. Easing into this new life would take time, and she wanted to reduce the amount of eyes that would see her vulnerability as she bloomed. “At least not yet.”

“Satya, you’re making it sound like we’re out doin' some kinda illicit scandals, you're gonna make me blush,” he coyly batted his long eyelashes at her, entertained by her deadpan face. “But to answer your question, yeah, guess you could say I sing. Not any good at it, but y’know, good way to pass the time.”

“I wouldn't think of you as the type to sing,” she admitted, setting her share of dishes and silverware off to the side before getting a clean rag to dry them off. “That makes two of us as far as learning new things about one another.”

“And you say we’re not friends,” he cheekily said, flicking his hand towel at her playfully. He almost snorted when she didn't move out of the way, choosing to raise an eyebrow at him. “Might as well text your old pal goodbye becuase obviously I’m your new best friend.”

She paused her actions and glanced up towards the ceiling. “I never had anyone to call a friend in the past. I would not have anyone to message my goodbyes to.”

“O-oh geez, Satya, I was just joking… I didn't mean to bring up bad memories or anything, really!” Mccree shook his hands quickly, instantly nervous about how she was taking his brazen banter. He stepped forward and held out his arms as if he intended on giving her a hug, but he stopped himself short as if remembering that she didn't seem comfortable with touch. “Do I have permission to give you a hug?”

“You have dish soap on the front of your shirt. I’d rather you did not.”

He looked down before throwing his head back to laugh. “You never hold back, do you? That honesty of yours makes you a real wildcard. You’re a treat, Satya. Never know what’s gonna come outta your mouth.”

That would be a first. Sometimes, her sharp tongue got her in trouble with her peers and superiors. She couldn't help but say what was on her mind half the time. It did feel a little nice that she didn't have to tip toe with her words around him, and he didn't seem to be bothered by it so much. She almost smiled but felt a little embarrassed. 

“Are you even done with your half of the dishes?” She asked, turning her head.

“Aw, c’mon, I thought we were having a moment here!” He said jest, pretending to pout as he returned back to his chore. 

_Maybe things wouldn't be so bad if I stayed here just a little bit longer_ , she thought as she moved on to help dry off the things he washed. Was it selfish to want more time? She wasn't sure. All she did know was her stay at Overwatch thus far was more positive than she had assumed it would be. Change wasn’t that scary when you had a friend to help you through it.

This time, Mccree didn’t say anything about her humming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw geez, sorry this chapter is super late! I tend to work on it bit by bit every once in awhile, but I've been pretty lax about getting around to posting it. I hope you enjoy despite the wait!
> 
> *Also as a side note, I think of Satya as a very reserved person who prefers dealing with one person at a time, so she gets a little prickly or aloof with new people. However, she will get along with everyone on Overwatch as she gets used to them at her own pace. If she comes off as icy right now, that's intentional to show her growth later on
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this chapter, and I'll do my best to get the next one!


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't until the sun started setting that Mccree found Symmetra outside, sitting by herself on the walkway bridge just a few paces away from Winston’s lab. The whole day, she had been following him around like a shy, tagalong sibling, but she seemed composed the entire time that he didn't worry too much about it. At least, he didn't until she had disappeared an hour or two ago. Sometimes, it was a little hard to know exactly she what she was thinking, but he liked to think of himself as a adaptable guy and could work with whatever she threw at him. He had the patience of a saint and the empathy of a friend.

“Hey, what are you doing up there? Kinda chilly out here, ain't it?” He called up to her, hands stuffed in his pockets. Despite it still being early in the evening, the brisk ocean spray always made Gibraltar a tad colder than it already was. He wondered if she was even used to cold temperatures or not. From what he knew, she was always stationed in places with hot climates.

Symmetra peered down at him, legs dangling over the edge. Her shoes were set neatly beside her, leaving her barefoot. “Oh, it’s just you. You startled me,” she responded coolly enough, but something didn't seem right. Her tone was always made her sound careful and serious, but she seemed a little distant, as if she was still lost in thought. It was hard to catch her off guard.

“Can I join you, Satya?” 

For a moment, she didn't answer him right away, sitting up to consider it for a bit before looking down again. She knew he wouldn't rush her on it, but on the other hand, she didn't want to keep him waiting. “Yes.”

Mccree nodded and headed up the stairs that led to where she was. She listened to the clack of his boots on the metal steps as he neared and turned her head when she saw his figure in her peripheral vision. He greeted her with a small wave but otherwise said nothing else. She brought her attention back to the dark sky and sighed, not responding when he took his place next to her. Even when she felt him gently bump against her arm as he pulled off his serape and placed it on her shoulders again, her gaze only flickered to him for a second. Not refusing it was enough to say that she appreciated the gesture.

They sat together in mutual silence, gazing out at the stars. The only sound was that of the infinite waves crashing up against the jagged rocks.

For another several minutes, she stayed quiet before posing a question to him. “Would you say that I am a bad person, Jesse?” As monotone as she sounded, there was another hint of sadness that reached her golden eyes. The second she heard herself say the words, she shook her head and clamped up. She involuntarily began to click her prosthetic fingers again to a rhythm only she could hear in her head. “That was quite an inappropriate thing to ask of you. Ignore that.”

He blinked, a bit taken aback. Out of all the things she could have mentioned, this was definitely something he wouldn't have expected her to ask. “That’s not really something I can ignore. Did someone say something to you?” He asked, his hands balling into tight fists. If there was one thing Mccree hated it was people who dismissed anyone who was trying to make a change for themselves. Anyone who was hellbent on seeing others for their mistakes and not the strides they took to better themselves were scum to him. “Satya, you know you can tell me if someone’s giving you a hard time. I’ll set them straight, just give me the word.”

“No, no one has said anything,” Symmetra confessed, not wanting to point blame at anyone. She gently swung her legs in the air. For some reason, it reminded her of a nearly forgotten memory. When she was a small girl still living in Hyderabad, she had a small, hidden place she always went to when she was frustrated or overwhelmed. Though she wouldn't be able to remember where it was now, she knew there used to be a tree with an old wooden swing attached to it. She never knew where it came from or who put it there, but no one else but her knew about it, and that made it special to her. Countless times, she had drudged her way over and sat on the swing until her mind cleared up. Now that she thought of it, the day the swing had vanished was the day she had taken by Vishkar. 

“On the contrary, it is what they are not saying is what I am upset about.”

“What do you mean?” Mccree asked, relaxing his shoulders and loosening his grip. He seemed relieved to know that no one was actively harassing her behind his back. As much as he trusted his teammates, he would never tolerate them hurting her in any way. 

Gently scratching at her cheek, she tried to think of a way to explain it to him. “Everyone here… they all expect me to assimilate and become a part of Overwatch, so they never question my being here. As far as they know, I’m just going through the steps to becoming a full fledged member, so they’re polite enough to me, or at least most of them are. After all, is it not natural for a villain character to be redeemed and join the heroes?”

He tried not to laugh at the last comment, trying to think of what kind of shows or books Symmetra liked to read for her to come up a line like that. “Yeah, guess it makes sense, though I really wouldn't call you a villain. I know some people were a little uneasy before you came and thought joining Overwatch would be a conflict of interest for you. I knew you couldn't be all that bad though, and every time I learn something new about you, I keep provin’ myself right all over again. Continue though.”

The amount of faith he had in her made Symmetra feel pleased, and she scooted back so she could sit crisscrossed. How funny time worked, just two days ago, she felt nothing but distaste for him and anyone under the Overwatch name, but now, she was sitting here with him and confessing her innermost thoughts. Every time they were together, she was able to appreciate that he was able to understand her more or less. Sometimes, she felt like most people she had interacted with thus far in her life didn't quite get her, but he was able to pick up her tempo and follow along. Were most people in the real world like this or was it just a gift of his, she wondered. It wouldn't be that hard of a transition if most people were like Mccree.

“It’s just that… well, you are aware of my decision to turn down Overwatch, and while you have been rather supportive in my choice, something I am grateful for… I am not certain on how the others will take it…” Her voice trailed off as she wrapped her arms around herself. “All those smiles before… how will they look at me when they realize I am not going to be one of them? What will they think, no, what will they say? It’s weighed so heavily on my mind for some time, so I came out here to reflect.”

“Ahh… now I see what’s been eating you up. Had a feeling it was something like that, but I didn't wanna force it outta you or nothin’.” Mccree slouched forward to prop up up his head on bent arms. Tapping a finger on his other hand, he slowly asked, “Since you brought it up, were you planning on sitting out here and just deal with this all on your own?”

“Of course, I have always dealt with my inner thoughts on my own. Don't you?” She looked a little perplexed by the comment. She had never truly considered expressing her stress and fears to others before, not that there were many she could have talked to on a personal level. Her life was molded around her always having to keep everything cool and professional on the surface, stifling everything else that didn't matter to the company. After all, why should she talk about frivolous matters when there was work to be done?

“I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I haven't before,” he started, “and maybe I still keep a thing or two under the wraps, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over time is that keeping it all bottled up ain’t gonna help you in the long run. It just makes it worse, trust me. Feels a lot better when you can just, y’know, chat it out with someone.”

She thought about it for a moment. There was no denying that every so often, she had been indulging him with more detail than she had intended. When it really came down to it, he was right; talking to him did soothe her worries or at least, took her mind off of them. Things would just slip before she could even think over her words carefully, and it felt kind of good for a change. However, it just wasn't fair to continuously rely on and burden him, especially not with her musings. He had done enough for her, and it would be so insensitive if she kept taking so much from him.

“I do not want to selfishly absorb your time and energy.”

“Selfish?” Dear lord, this woman didn't even know the definition of the word. He stopped himself from asking her what was the last thing she had done for herself. That was a discussion for a different time. “Nah, there ain’t nothing selfish about it. It’s just a part of what friends do, you share the great things and the shit things together. Don't think you need to hide it all, you got me if you need me. Or anyone else you wanna talk to,” he quickly added the latter part, not wanting her to think he was out to monopolize her. “But just know that I don't think you're a bad person. You were just in a bad place, but now you're overcoming all that. Ain’t that proof enough?”

“You seem so sure of it…” A laugh escaped her lips before she could even think to keep it to herself, though even she could sense the lack of mirth to it.

“That’s because I am sure of it. You’re a good kid, and you deserve every bit of happiness and a peace of mind. My word might not mean much, but anyone that says otherwise needs a good knock in the teeth. I’ll even do it myself!” He held up his fists and punched an invisible opponent.

“I do not believe in violence if it can be avoided.”

“Then I’ll give them a good, long stare.”

She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them close. Shyly, she leaned her face against the tops of her thighs to hide her mouth. “Jesse?” She asked, voice muffled and a little softer than before.

He rubbed his arms as a small gust of the cold air ran through him. “Yeah?”

She didn't fail to see him shiver and realized that he was putting her needs above him. As much as she didn't like physical touch, she also didn't like that he was constantly the one doing things for her. She decided that perhaps she could learn to meet him halfway on things. “If it is all right with you, perhaps I could also lend you an ear if you need it? I am quite aware that I am not the best with such matters, but I could do my best to attend to your needs for someone to listen. At least, if you want me to, I do not want to be imprudent and-”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” His smile changed to a look of surprise when he saw her move closer so she could put one end of the serape around his shoulders. Their arms were pressed together more now, and her head was almost leaning against him. She didn't say a word, but the bashful look on her face made it clear that she had no idea what she was doing. How could anyone think she was a bad person?

“You know, it’d be warmer if the two of us went inside,” he said with a grin.

“… Actually, another reason I am outside is I am avoiding having to converse to Winston about this. I told myself I would settle everything tonight and be done with it, but… I suppose the saying, ‘easier said than done,’ is applicable here. With that being said, would it be alright… if we were to stay out here for a moment longer? I promise that I will not keep you here too long,” She sheepishly asked.

The request was innocent enough, and she obviously had no ulterior motives, but it was enough to make him feel lighthearted. While she was far from a damsel in distress, he had a growing desire to know more about her and protect her from harm. She wasn't one to show her vulnerabilities and weaknesses out of both pride and insecurities, so each time she allowed him to see those sides of her, he just felt that much closer to her. Maybe he could be a bit overly friendly with her, but he found himself able to relate to her issues, and he wanted nothing more than her to find a better path for herself the way he did. It was a real shame he might not see her again after she left Gibraltar for good. He’d like to see where life takes her.

“Fine by me. And if you want, I’ll come with you if you need someone to hold your hand, kiddo.”

She scowled at him, a face that could rival his own mother’s in terms of sternness. “Please, do not infantilize me, Jesse. I am not a child, nor am I in need of holding anyone’s hand.”

He laughed again, still very fond of that silver tongue of hers, and he was glad that it hadn't dulled. “Oh? Holding hands is out of the question now? I kinda liked holding yours the other night, didn't you?” he teased, slightly hoping to get a rise out of her. He half expecting her to get embarrassed, half expecting her to get even huffier at him.

She tapped her fingers against her chin as if seriously mulling his question over. There were no signs of either expectations crossing her face. In fact, she was as neutral as always. “Hm… That is certainly true… perhaps every now and then is fine. Very well then, I retract my prior statement. Here.” He stared as she humorlessly held out her hand to him, clearly wanting him to take it. When he didn't move, she furrowed her brows and firmly extended her hand even further towards him. 

“Why are you giving me such a look? I am bestowing my permission to hold my hand. In moderation, of course.”

Geez, this woman. Never a dull moment with her. “Then I guess I’ll take you up on that offer, yer Majesty. I’ll be your escort for tonight,” he said with that classic grin of his.

While he had been joking, seeing her thin hand in his did make him smile a bit. Though he was sociable with his peers, it had been awhile since he got the chance to sit back and relax this intimately with a friend. Lately, everyone there at Gibraltar didn't have as much time to mess around like they did in the good old days. Nowadays, each one of them were always off on this mission or that. Even though they did their best to stay positive during their times together, there was that lingering cloud of somberness in their eyes. Years had passed since the glory days, and just too many things had changed, almost none for the better. It didn't help that some things were just too hard to bring up that it constantly made elephants in the room. 

Maybe that was why he loved being able to be around Satya so much. She didn't have any ties to Overwatch’s past, so it made it that much easier to talk to so freely like this. Whatever the reason, he’d cherish his time left with her until she said she was ready to go.

-

“Ms. Vaswani, what did you have to see me for?” Winston asked when she finally entered the room. A holographic screen appeared in front of them, and he flicked though different locations and faces, a few familiar but most foreign to Symmetra, attached to the digital pages. 

He looked away from his work and immediately noticed that she hadn't come alone. He set the mug of coffee he had been holding down on his desk. “Oh, and Mccree? I don’t believe I have you assigned for anything at the moment. Let me do a double check… I may have overlooked something. It’ll only take a sec-”

“Nah, that’s not it, Big guy,” Mccree said, spinning one of the chairs around backwards to sit in. True to his word, he had agreed to come with her as moral support. “Im not here for any mission stuff, I’m just here for her.”

“I see… You two have been getting along well from what I’ve heard,” Winston said, giving him a curious stare. While he didn't think of Mccree as a loner, it was still surprising that he would go so far to help someone he had barely met. Even more incredulous was how resistant Ms. Vaswani was in the beginning, yet here she was, keeping the cowboy as her confidant. He wondered what had happened between the two for them to be so close knit these days.

“Could say that, I guess.”

Symmetra sat properly in her seat, ankles cross and her hands folded in her lap. Everything about her posture read elegance and grace, except upon closer inspection, she was ridden with nerves. Her face was taut with worry and her hands were gnarled together, knuckles fading to a paler hue every time she squeezed her fingers. She almost wished she hadn't dropped Mccree’s hand the second she had stepped in the lab, but she felt that it was almost inappropriate to display that kind of behavior in front of anyone else. Just like saying his first name, she stubbornly wanted to keep it private.

Mccree hovered his hand near her shoulder for a moment, and when she gave a single nod, he placed it there gently to console her. As distressed as she was now, her anxiety would have risen to dangerous levels if he were not here. She might not have come at all if she was on her own, he guessed. Not that he took any solace in her suffering, but it was a little endearing that she found comfort and strength in him being there.

“What seems to be the problem? Is everything all right?” Winston asked, both confused and worried. He looked over at Symmetra to get an answer, but she said nothing. As calm as she looked, there was an onslaught of words in her mind. At first Winston most likely would not have guessed how she was feeling until he looked down to see her foot anxiously tapping on the floor. A nervous habit he also had.

“Been thinking that maybe I didn't really consider what was good for Symm. I don't think any of us really were,” he started off. 

“I dont understand, what do you mean?”

“So, I know we’re hurting for people right now, and that you had been keeping tabs on her to join for awhile but…” they both looked at her, but their gaze made her shrink until Mccree smiled at her. He turned his attention back to Winston. “We’re just not a good fit for her. Hear me out on this, we were barely on a war zone back in Route 66 the other night, and just seeing her face… she’s a brilliant scientist, yes, but she’s a civilian, a person, first. I don't want her to get hurt out there, no matter how good she is at what she does.”

Winston nodded his head, scratching his chin as he listened. “Oh dear… well, that certainly is an issue worth discussing. I had no idea you felt this way, Ms. Vaswani. Though I do want to hear your thoughts on the matter, seeing as you are the person in question. Do you personally believe you’re not compatible with Overwatch?”

“It’s… not that I believe myself to be incompatible…” she admitted, running her fingers along her forearm. Letting Mccree put his two cents in first made her feel a little less uneasy about expressing the bubbling thoughts that had been brewing in her mind. “In fact, the equipment and scientific possibilities here are more than enough for me to consider a future here. I will say that much. I just… I cannot bring myself to a life of a soldier, that is not the role I wish to take. Even your medic has been forced against her pacifism, having to take up arms for the sake of your goals, but the chaos and blood of your crusades is something I both fear and avoid. I could never be what you want me to be, and I humbly request that I take my leave. I wish to resume my life outside of this war zone you all have engrossed yourselves with.”

She closed her eyes tightly, expecting to be chastised for her disobedience. A new position was set for her, and she knew more than anyone that going against the status quo was a recipe for disaster. It would be perfectly understandable that Dr. Winston would be angry at her for being so flippant and disrespectful for asking to leave when he had used so many resources and connections just to bring her here. She should be thankful that someone would even look her way after her involvement with Vishkar. When would she ever get such an opportunity like this again?

A few seconds passed and she opened her eyes carefully, only to see him slowly running his fingers along the photographs that decorated his desk. Years of personal history were all tucked away here, and she wondered what he was thinking when he plucked out one that had a man with glasses. The picture was visibly older than the rest, clearly held many times, and she tilted her head trying to see a better angle. From what she could tell, there was a gorilla in the picture. Perhaps Winston as a youth?

“If there’s one thing I do not want, Ms. Vaswani… More than anything,” he said, still fondly reliving his memories, “it’s that I do not want to lose any more of my family here at Overwatch.” 

“Family?” Her face didn't betray her confusion as her tone did. She did a quick run through in her head, trying to think back and remember if she had seen any other gorillas on the base. Of course, nothing else came to mind. Winston had to be the only one on this entire base. If she could recall, she did read about a study on genetically enhanced gorillas colony on the moon a long time ago and had found it a fascinating at the time, but now that she thought about it, she never did end up hearing about how it had gone. Clearly, he was one of them, definitely a scientific success, but perhaps he was the only one stationed here, or worse, the only one left? Then who did he consider his brethren?

“That’s right, you see, Ms. Vaswani, every person you see here at Overwatch, and even those not present at the time… in the good times and bad, we've always been together. They’re all like a family to me, and nothing pains me more than the thought of them getting hurt. We’ve lost too many in the past, I don't want to lose anymore,” he said, holding the photo a little tighter yet being careful not to damage it. “They mean the world to me, and I’d do anything to see them live their lives to the fullest.”

His concept of family was a little foreign to her. Not once did she consider of anyone at Vishkar as kin to her. She didn't even think of them as friends, just another means to complete their collective goal. Even her own blood related relatives were far from her thoughts, though she supposed, without seeing them for so many years, it was only natural. However, the people here felt so strongly towards each other, and it made her wonder if she could ever experience that sort of bond. “That is… an admirable sentimentality.” 

“You think so? You know, even though you’ve only been with us a short time, and, uh,” he laughed nervously and grinned, “I hope I’m not being too presumptuous, but I did think that you’d be a wonderful addition to our family.”

“I do not know about that. I am quite aware that I am not skilled with the dealings of people. I cannot understand them well. After all, I was swept up in Vishkar’s lies without seeing the truth, even when it was placed right in front of me. I would find that I would stand out. ”

“I have to disagree with you. You’re better than you think, Ms. Vaswani."

“Yeah, besides, how could you stick out more than a giant talking monkey, right Symm? Can’t say you see that every day,” The cowboy brought up, doing his best to keep the conversation light.

Winston sighed, pushing up his glasses up. It was evident that he was used to the man’s sense of humor and snark. “…Mccree, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that for Ms. Vawani’s sake.”

Mccree’s efforts were rewarded with Symmetra looking away and covering her mouth. She couldn't restrain herself and let out a small chuckle. It was so ebullient and vibrant here. People made jokes and laughed with one another, no one was cold, and more importantly, no one was alone. If her short amount of time with Mccree and the others was anything to go by, then maybe she understood the idea of family that wasn't her own after all. It was a shame she’d have to cut it off so soon. “Thank you very much, both of you. I highly appreciate your consideration of my feelings.” She politely bobbed her head and got up to her feet. “Now that we’ve more or less settled this, if you do not mind, I will return to my room to gather my belongings. Have a good night, Dr. Winston.”

“Oh, very well. Take a well deserved rest. I know this must have been hard on you to think about, so I’m glad we were able to discern your worries. In the future, don't hold back on letting me know if there’s anything bother you. My door is always open. Good night, Ms. Vawani, Mccree.” Excusing himself, he headed out the door, presumably to head downstairs. 

Once he was gone, Symmetra let out a long sigh and her built up stress was released along with it. “That…went better than I had intended…” She looked over at Mccree and smiled, “I see now that I was wrong to worry, but thank you for accompanying me nonetheless.”

Mccree was content as long as she was all right. He got up to join her and pushed the chair he was sitting in back in its rightful spot. “I’ll walk you back then since it’s late. Wouldn't want you to get lost.”

She made a face, proudly stating, “I’ve memorized the entire structure’s layout and then some, I would never get lost.”

“Even to the kitchen?”

“We go there every day for our meals, of course I would know where it is.”

“Then how about a late night snack before bed?”

“You plan on finding the cookies Angela and Reinhardt baked for tomorrow, don't you? She had warned me to keep an eye out for you in case you intend to sneak a few before then.”

“Ahh you caught me… making you my accomplice, so that just means your gonna have to come with me regardless,” he coyly replied, holding out his hand again and squeezed when she took it.

“If I must.”

Hearing their playful banter made Winston smile a little. When Symmetra let her guard down, it was hard to tell she was the same woman from Vishkar who had been brainwashed to be nothing more than a tool. She deserved to be happy and free from that cage of the past. Clearing his throat, he leaned over and poked his head into the room. “Actually, one more thing before you go. I almost forgot!”

The pair halted, not realizing that Winston was still in earshot. Symmetra was especially embarrassed, immediately dropping Mccree’s hand once more as though she was caught redhanded doing some illegal activity. “Er, yes?”

“As we agreed, you will be relieved of your position here,” he started, “as long as you promise me one thing, Ms. Vaswani.” 

Her blood slowly froze over, and she anxiously clutching her hand on her chest. Ignoring the discomfort of her fingertips pressing into her sternum, she swallowed hard. What sort of conditions would be laid out for her? For a split second, she wondered if she would have to live in isolation her whole life to avoid giving out Overwatch secrets or something even more drastic. “And… what might that be…?”

“Nothing impossible for you, don't worry. The condition is solely for you to continue to try and help make the world a better place on your own terms and ideals. I know you will, your heart and head is in the right spot, and now you have the freedom to take the chance. I can’t wait to see the good you will do for us all.”

Even if she had known what to say in response, it would have been impossible for her to get the words out. She turned her back on him and bit her lip. Holding back tears, she nodded her head. She never fully realized that others believed her to be good. All this time she was so worried that they would paint her as a villain, but to hear not only Mccree but Winston’s good faith in her, it was enough to bring out feeling she didn't even know she had. Was this what it was like to make someone proud?

-

She ended up staying another two days, but by then, the news had already made its rounds. Believing the worst, she did her best not to meet anyones eyes and made herself scarce, always glued to Mccree’s back. For the most part, no one made any mention of her decision to leave and gave her the space she clearly needed.

“You ready to go?” The cowboy asked as the jet’s ramp started to lower itself once more, the machinery hissing as it operated. 

They had come to the conclusion that she would depart that afternoon for the closest civilian airport, and from there, she would decide her destination. Her luggage had already been neatly packed and loaded, not that she had brought much to begin with. She had left behind a lot of her belongings at Vishkar, though most of it was uniform dresses and shoes that she had no intentions of donning again. A clean cut away from her old life, and she was ready to start anew.

But where to start?

Before she could think of a response to him, or even to her wandering thoughts, she heard her name on the wind. With a small turn, she soon saw that the Overwatch team had made an effort to see her off. Even members she hadn't had a chance to talk with were there, and the gesture really made her woes fade. She really had underestimated them, projecting her own insecurities on them. 

Tracer was, of course, the first to come to her with a bittersweet smile. “Winston told me your headin’ off now, so I just had to round up the troops for one last goodbye and to wish you good luck on your travels, luv! It was so nice to have you here, but I’m sure you’ll do great things even without Overwatch,” Tracer said as she held her arms out for a hug. 

It was only now that Symmetra noticed that Tracer’s arms had gauze wrapped snugly around them. All of them, while smiling, had a very tired look in their eyes. This could only be from going on mission after mission after mission. And for what? What good was it to fight and keep on fighting? The world had turned its back on them ages ago, leaving them nothing, not even an inkling of help. They could have lived out quiet and relatively peaceful days for the rest of their lives. No worrying about risking their blood and flesh for ungrateful people who only spat their name into the dirt.

Deep down, Symmetra knew the answer. She knew it the moment she had seen all those people praise Mccree for protecting them from Deadlock’s influence, but she wanted to turn a blind eye to it. After all, it was easier to point fingers at Overwatch and call them dangerous rogues than it was to admit she was wrong. They too wanted a better world and to them, the only way to achieve it was to protect it, no matter the cost, even if meant their very lives. Truly, they were deserving of the term heroes, and she would never insult them again by thinking otherwise.

Leaning her head down, she allowed Tracer to hug her, which made the other woman smile and embraced her even tighter. Maybe Mccree was right. Perhaps she could have warmed up to her if she was inclined to give her a chance. She never did get an opportunity to develop friendships before, so she had grown up with a terrible habit of pushing people away until no one tried to approach her. If she could get over that hurdle and change things up a bit in the future… Mimicking the act, she hugged Tracer back. “Thank you, Lena.”

“You remembered my name,” Tracer said softly, grabbing Symmetra’s hands and squeezing them. “Come visit us again, don't be shy now, you hear? We’d all love to have you back, you’ll always have a place here, don't forget! We’ll have a grand ol’ time together!”

“Yes, I understand,” Symmetra said, though she wasn't sure if visiting was something one could really do here. This was a military base, not a public domain, but it meant a lot to hear that she was still welcome amongst them. The second she left this place, it was very well possible that she’d never come back or see these faces ever again. Their paths would be going in completely different directions, and it was for the best. 

Right?

“Oho? Aren't you a charmer? Don’t you already have a certain Emily?” Torbjorn suddenly piped up, always ready to give his younger coworkers a hard time.

“Wh-wha?? It was just a hug!” She cried, running after to chase after the chuckling old man with her fists in the air, leaving Symmetra more than a little confused. “A hug!!”

Seeing that as an opening, more of the other members approached her and gave their own messages of good wishes and farewells. She had never been on the receiving end of such positive camaraderie that it made her a little awkward and shy. She almost wished she had time to become more familiar with everyone.

The one thing that really astounded Symmetra was that they were still smiling and benevolent despite knowing she had no intention of joining them. These were not the criminals the media had scorned and shunned into the shadows. These were real people, still doing whatever they could to preserve the hope and the possibility of a better future. Not only for themselves, but for the whole world. 

The jet was the same one that she wanted to run away in last night, waiting for her with an open cargo bay door. She lingered, trying to gather her thoughts before making her way up the metal ramp. With every step, she felt herself get heavier as her body was gradually becoming stone to keep her rooted where she was. It almost was as if her feet were adamantly refusing to obey orders from her brain. Why was she so reluctant about leaving? Was this not what she wanted all along? Had she not demanded and insisted she wanted to live her life without conflict?

“Satya? Did you forget something?”

Hesitating just before she entered, she turned and looked at Mccree, who standing inside, one hand resting on the button that would separate her from this world of Overwatch. It was too late to hide the tears in her eyes. Before he could ask her what was wrong, she suddenly snatched his hand and pulled it away. 

“What in the world are you-“

“I want to be part of Overwatch,” she admitted in a hushed tone, squeezing his hand before letting it go the second she realized there was still an audience down below.

“Huh?” 

Whether he didn't catch what she said or was trying to process it, she didn't know. Feeling the need to restate it, not only for him but herself, she straightened her posture and took a deep breath. “I want to be a part of Overwatch!” Satya Vaswani repeated, much louder this time. It wasn't often that she raised her voice like this and her cheeks felt warm when she heard surprised gasps. Immediately, her looked away, “That is… if that is permissible…”

Mccree’s jaw dropped when he realized what she was saying, but seeing her physically withdraw, he knew it was no time to be to just stand there and stare. Clearing his throat, he stepped away from the control panel and smiled. This was a big decision for her to suddenly make, but he’d continue to support her choice one way or another. All that really mattered was if she supported it herself. “You sure?”

Was she sure? 

Absolutely not. She had never been so unsure in her all her years of life. There was nothing she could have done that could possibly determine the outcome of her choice. If she took up this path, she knew she couldn't expect for everything to be set out for her to follow and repeat time and time again. Every day would be a new one, and she would have to learn how to adapt to the new world around her. Her heart felt like it was beating a little faster just thinking about all the possibilities and what ifs.

“No, I am not, but somehow that makes me want to see this through. That I may learn to be sure in the choices I make for myself,” she responded, shaking the nasty seeds from her mind. “That way, I believe, I will not have regrets. I know it may seem fickle of me, but this is my final decision.”

Mccree lifted his hat off and placed it on her head. “In that case, welcome to the team, rookie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wew, I'm so sorry about the lateness of this chapter. I dont intend to let it die, I'm just always nitpicky over my work and then end up taking way longer than intended. I'll try to post more often soon! 
> 
> Anyways, let me know your thoughts on this chapter!


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